Through the Trees
by SeeMyEvil
Summary: Isabella is haunted by an accident four years earlier and takes comfort in the only one who can understand — the man who died. After ten years, Isabella has found the strength to move on to greater things in New York. A B/Jas fic with a twist.
1. Chapter 1

**Pick a Pic Challenge**

**Title: **Through the Trees

**Penname: **SeeMyEvil

**Banner: **Entry #13

**Rating: **PG-13

**Summary: **Isabella is haunted by an accident four years earlier and takes comfort in the only one who can understand—the man who died.

**Disclaimer: All recognisable characters belong to Stephenie Meyer and her alone. **

**To see all the stories that are a part of this contest please visit: .com. **

It was after an argument with her father that Isabella Swan found herself wandering. She didn't know where she was going; she simply pulled her boots on and threw open the back door. Her heavy feet drew her into the beckoning branches of the forest. Its swaying claws of wood and ivy tore at her coat; it was hastily shoved on as she stepped on her father's carefully ruined lawn. Isabella knew the significance of today but couldn't find it in herself to care what Charlie Swan thought of her grand exit. She knew she had aggravated him and spat harsh words at him. She also knew if she stayed in that house any longer, she would remember too much of what had happened. She did not want to remember anything, just wanted a clean slate—a clean mind. But she knew that was impossible.

Still she walked, not stepping in the mud quite as emphatically as she had before. The anger slowly drained out of her, brushed away by the wind. It was the twenty-ninth of February today, and the weather was unsympathetic to the feelings of the Swan household. The breeze, while it was cleansing, turned Isabella's hair into a great mess and blew her coat almost straight off. She anxiously pulled at the ends of the fraying fleece, trying to zip it up against the sudden gusts.

She was cold, as cold as she had been that day.

A bird called across the forest, sending a shiver down Isabella's spine and burning the scar on her abdomen. The stitches below her navel seemed to materialise again, tugging at the skin and causing excruciating pain as she walked. Isabella wondered when it would ever _stop_. She was confused; her hand ghosting over the mark she knew was there but couldn't see below the layers of clothes. The doctor with kind eyes had assured that in a few years, the incision mark would be completely invisible.

She wouldn't feel a thing.

_But what did he know anyway_? Isabella sighed, continuing on and ignoring the false feeling under her skin. Angrily, she thought back to the argument she'd had with her father.

**. . .**

"_Why are you blaming me?" Charlie bellowed._

"_Aren't you responsible?"_

"_How can you say that, Bells? I've cared for you and fed you and put clothes on your back. What way is this to treat me? What words to say?"_

"_Well done, Charlie, for looking after your only daughter. Give yourself a pat on the back!" At this, Charlie could scarcely believe his ears and fell back onto his La-Z-boy. "Oh, that's it, Dad, make yourself comfortable…" Isabella trailed off, catching her breath as she looked anywhere but at him._

"_I did nothing."_

"_Exactly!" Isabella replied furiously. Now enraged, Charlie stood up to face his daughter. He couldn't take her words anymore than he had taken Renée's._

"_Now listen here, Isabella—" he started, pointing an accusatory finger into her chest. "—I think this has gotten far enough. I didn't make your mother walk out of here; she made that choice herself. I didn't make her take you with her, either. In fact, I'd much rather you had stayed with me here. Renée did what she did and said what she said, it's nothing to do with you or me, and neither was that god damned accident!" This was the most Isabella had heard her father say in one breath. But she had _more_ to say._

"_If you had tried to stop her leaving that night, she would have missed that biker!"_

_Now that, Charlie could not deny._

**. . .**

A tear sprung from her eye, as hot as her heart. She didn't know what to think about what had happened those four years ago and she daren't think any more on it. After all, wasn't that what had started the argument? She had so much anger in her heart, pressing into her lungs and making it impossible to think or breathe. It couldn't be healthy.

**. . .**

_A look of utter desolation came upon her father's face, a look so desperate and vulnerable that Isabella almost felt guilty for her words. _Almost_. Charlie fell back into his chair again; stared straight ahead. He looked right through Isabella, and she felt exposed. Her feelings were still raw._

"_Leave," he murmured quietly. Isabella took a step back in shock at the echoing of words from that night so long ago. She took a staggered breath in._

"_Just. Go." Charlie was despondent._

_Isabella was broken._

**. . .**

But what had made her bring the accident up? Was it the dream the night before? Or was it when Isabella had looked at her desktop and seen the leap-yearly date that destroyed her family? Whatever it was, the results were explosive and she regretted ever bringing it up. But she needed to talk to someone. Anyone she tried didn't know what to say, and nor did they _really_ want to hear it. Isabella had just barely come to terms with it.

With her eyes forward, a determined look came upon her face. She would not let this consume her—there was light at the end of the tunnel. _She knew_. There was nothing to stop her from doing well at school and achieving those A grades she had dreamt of as a younger child, less jaded. There was really nothing to stop her from taking that date Mike persistently offered her each week… she laughed. _As if. _And truly, what held her back but herself? She commanded her mind, forcing it to let go, internally pushing her hands into her chest and throwing away all of that anger.

She felt no better. It wasn't that simple. And then she stopped. She looked around her, finding nothing but darkness and nothing but trees. This place was empty and devoid of life. Isabella had found herself in a wasteland, the graveyard of winter surely. This was what she imagined movie directors searched for to shoot horror movies in. This area of land, bathed in the fast fading light of sunset was nowhere. She was lost in the woods and didn't know how she would get back.

Isabella squinted, looking through the trees. She could see a flickering light ahead of her and wondered if she had somehow walked right into First Beach up at the Reservation. What if she had stumbled on the campsite of an axe murderer? She felt her breaths quicken for a moment before she mentally took a hold of herself and shook the ridiculous thought away. There were no murderers in _Forks_, she scoffed under her breath.

So she moved forward, suddenly aware of the crunching leaves underfoot. She wondered absently what her boots looked like, and dreaded cleaning them off. Isabella rushed ahead, frantically shoving the reaching branches out of her way. The smell of wood fire hit her nose, the gentle musk creating a sense of comfort in her mind. It reminded her of a simpler time, before everything went wrong. Before that night.

Finally, she came into the clearing and found a hunched figure leaning over the fire in the centre of the dell. The pyre was piled high, and the heat reached Isabella at the edge. She reluctantly stepped further into the small meadow, feeling cautious of the figure. And as she got closer, she felt colder. She found herself rubbing at the outsides of her arms, trying to create friction through the heavily torn cotton coat.

The figure turned only half way, just enough to see his face in silhouette. She felt like she knew the mysterious man who sat before her and gazed intensely into her eyes. She could feel her scar burning and her cheeks filling with blood. The man narrowed his eyes hatefully and turned abruptly back to the fire. Isabella felt out of place, but not scared.

She only wanted to get warm.

Isabella drew closer still until she was only a couple of feet from the strange man's back. She observed him, saw the ripped dark leather jacket. She saw his hair was much darker at the back than at the front, but in this light could not discern its true colour. She could also see that he was shivering. He was cold too, despite what should have been the blazing heat of fire.

"Can I help you, sir?" she inquired. "You look cold." The man turned again and started at her closeness. Now she could see his scraped face, the designer stubble and dull green eyes. Now she could see the bizarre colour of his hair and knew undoubtedly who this man was.

"NO!" she staggered back. She recognised that curled dark red hair. It terrified her.

"Why did you take so long to get here?" he said slowly, confusedly. "I've waited an awful long time to speak to you. Where were you, Isabella?" The man stood, restored to his impressive height. He was still cold, but so was she.

Isabella tugged at her hair nervously, fearfully. She had a hand across her mouth, knowing without a doubt that she would scream if she uncovered it. This was her worst nightmare. She briefly considered running from the ghost, but then remembered what little success usually came of her running legs. She was frozen to the spot.

"What right do you have to come back?" she cried, fresh tears leaking from her eyes. "You died! You can't come back! Just go away!" _Leave_. Quickly she dabbed at her eyes with the end of her coat.

"Believe me, I wish I could," he whispered. "But I'm stuck here for whatever reason. Well, we know what fucking reason that is…" The last part was under his breath, yet she heard it. Isabella crushed her eyelids shut regretfully. She wanted to pretend she wasn't here, that she was nowhere; that no-one was standing next to her.

"I know. I was there when it happened."

The man looked up, smiling bitterly at her half-joke. "So you recognise me. I didn't think you would like to know who killed your mother."

"Edward Masen, no known relatives. _Died on impact_," she parroted the policeman's words, unable to look up. The grass was singed where burning ash had fallen, but the ground was too wet for it to catch alight. "At least you weren't in pain, I told myself."

"True. I felt nothing."

"Shame the same couldn't be said for my mother," Isabella choked.

"Hmmm," Edward mumbled. "Or for you."

Isabella looked up, brushing a careful hand over her scar, where shrapnel from the car had been pulled from her body. She remembered the pain it had caused, how she had ached all over for weeks and weeks. And then how her chest had ached much more for years longer.

"At least physical wounds can be healed. The emotional wounds I endured are much less easy to suppress. I still feel her absence, here." Isabella put both hands over her heart and pressed. She willed the torn feeling away with little success and the feeling of four years welled to the surface. _Where had this come from?_ she wondered; she could usually control this quite efficiently—keep it ticking over. But now it boiled in her blood and grew in her cheeks. She felt so… angry.

"I want her back!" she screamed. "I want my Mom back! Give her back to me! NOW!" She rushed over to Edward and punched his chest repeatedly, desperately. "It's all your fault she died. Now you can undo what you've done. You can take her back. Do it now. Please? Please…" Isabella pleaded. "Give her back… I just want her back."

Edward hesitantly pulled her to him, put a hand on her back and patted it in an attempt to comfort her. It had been too long since he touched a real person. He missed the warmth in his heart and the feeling in his nerves. He missed everything _human_. It seemed Isabella's presence here gave _some_ of his humanity back.

Soon, after she had choked on her tears and cries so many times he couldn't bear to leave her alone; Edward pulled both arms around her. He rocked her from side to side, much like he had held his younger sister before she passed away. His sister Alice had been terminally ill and wanted to be held one final time. Edward felt guilty for sharing this with Isabella, feeling as though he had replaced his sister. He pushed the pleading girl away and held her shoulders. She looked down, tears dropping from her eyes frequently as he watched her.

Eventually she looked up into his eyes, her own glassy and blurred. She found his brighter than when she saw them first, sitting beside the fire. Edward seemed more peaceful somehow, but there was something burning behind his eyes—a needy curiosity.

"What is it?" she asked, shakily, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"I want to know what happened that night; I want to know why your mother was on the road in that state." Isabella felt a weight drop in her chest, weighing her down. Could he have asked anything worse of her? She didn't think so. "Please… I have to know."

"It will probably make you angry," she replied. "That fire will go up into the sky and disappear, that's how angry you'll be." Edward cocked his head to the side, wondering what she meant. She guessed she had been watching too many ghost movies. "_Why_ do you need to know? Is this what you need to make peace?"

Edward considered this for a moment before he answered. "I think so."

"Then I won't deny you it…" she sighed. "No-one should be stuck in Forks forever," she said laughingly. Edward smiled.

**. . .**

"_Charlie, where are my old sketchbooks?" Renée inquired of her husband from the top of the stairs. Her voice echoed downstairs through the sound of the sports channel. Charlie grunted in thought before he yelled his answer up to her._

"_I don't know." _

"_Wonderful," she hissed under breath exasperatedly. She stepped over to her daughter's bedroom door in bare feet and tapped on the wood. A girlish call of 'come in' rang in the room, and so her mother opened the door. Isabella was reading a copy of 'Wuthering Heights' on her bed that she had been given for Christmas. She looked up to study her mother, clad in a long purple skirt and a loose red blouse. Her dark hair was tied up in a bun, but strands escaped the sparkling hair band to fall across her face._

"_Have you seen my old sketchbooks, sweetheart?" she asked gently. Isabella cocked her head in thought, giving the question serious consideration. "The ones from college?" Isabella inquired._

"_Yes, those ones." _

"_I think I saw Dad throwing them out last weekend," she replied before returning her eyes to her book. Renée's face flashed in rage, pulling Isabella's door shut with force as her mind set on giving Charlie a serious telling off. Her heavy footsteps could be heard throughout the house and Isabella knew her mother meant business. Charlie, however, was absorbed in the football game on the television._

_Renée came to stand in front of her husband with her hands on her hips. Charlie could still listen to the game, hearing it despite his wife's prominent position in front of the television. With that, she took the remote control from the arm of her husband's chair and switched the TV off. He sighed now, unable to ignore the oncoming onslaught. _

"_You threw my sketchbooks out?" she said, half questioning—half stating. Charlie pulled his hands into his lap and looked down. He knew he had done something wrong without even having to look at Renée's face. It was in her tone and the spread of her feet._

"_I might have done," he replied._

"_And why would you do that?" she shot back._

"_I didn't think you would want them, or need them. You asked me to clean up, so I cleaned the house." _

"_Don't get smart with me, Charlie Swan." _

"_You want an honest answer, Renée?" It didn't sound like a question._

"_Yes, please!"_

"_I saw those drawings, the notes and the photos. I know what you've been doing. You've been having an affair!" Charlie stood up, toe to toe with her. She gasped in surprise and shock._

"_You looked through my books? How dare you!" _

"_Huh, well you won't even bother to deny it?" _

"_Would you rather I lied?" she shrieked._

"_Yes, I think I would!" _

_Renée moved away from him to stand by one of the dining room chairs, using it to support her weight. She felt heavier than ever before. Charlie wasn't supposed to ever know._

"_What, you didn't think I'd find them? They were on the dining room table for crying out loud!" he said disbelievingly. "You know, Renée, I could hardly believe my eyes; I didn't _want_ to believe my eyes either to be honest. But what hurts the most is that you're throwing twelve years of marriage away for some 'minor league baseball player' who won't bring in the money to pay for anyone! What am I supposed to think this is about, but me?" She looked at him, sadly. "What did I do wrong?" he cried defeated, sitting back in his chair. _

"_You did nothing." _

_Tears fell from his eyes, burning his cheeks with the heat. "Our marriage is meaningless then, Renée? Is it? Did we raise our beautiful daughter for nothing?" He brushed his tears away and put his head in his hands. "We did nothing." _

"_That's it, Charlie."_

_There was a long, pregnant pause. Both parents were still on either side of the house, not quite sure where to go from there. What was left? _

"_Why did you wait, Charlie? Why didn't you let me have it when you threw the damned books out?" Renée wondered._

"_Because I didn't want to believe what I saw."_

"_I see." Renée pulled the dining room chair out and rested her aching feet. She felt like everything was hurting and aching. Nothing was right anymore. She could pretend no more._

"_That's right, make yourself comfortable," Charlie murmured, a withering look thrown over his shoulder at his wife._

"_Well what would you _like_ me to do, Charlie? Walk on hot coals? Slit my wrists?" Her voice rose in hysteria, dreading the next words that would come from her husband's mouth. She could see them coming._

"_Leave."_

_Renée gasped in shock. She had anticipated this decision, knew that this may happen one day. In idle moments she had considered various scenarios in answer to the question… _what if Charlie finds out?_ So… why did she feel herself become faint, feel empty inside? She expected this… but didn't really expect it._

"_What about Bella?" The question neither of them had asked in the last twenty minute row hung in the air. "Shall I take her with me?"_

_It broke Charlie's heart to hear her acceptance of his asking her leave. He wanted her to fight back, to claim she would end it with Phil Dwyer. But Charlie didn't know if he could continue to look at his wife in quite the same way, kiss her… love her after he'd learnt that she had been held by _another man_. _

"_Just. Go." _

_Renée drew in a shuddering breath and stood, gathering a couple of photos from the mantel and moving upstairs. She dragged a suitcase from under their marital bed, tears still dripping from her face. She felt guilty and knew she wouldn't be able to go to Phil. She didn't know where she could go. And as she piled all the clothes she could fit into the suitcase, she thought sadly over the past twelve years. She would regret her affair for as long as she lived because she knew that wherever she was headed with Bella, it would never be as good or as stable as Forks._

_She stopped packing for a moment and moved into her daughter's bedroom—not bothering to knock. Isabella was still sitting on her bed, but the book was overturned on the cream carpeted floor. Isabella had heard every word._

"_We're leaving, aren't we?" Her mother nodded and bent over to drag Isabella's own suitcase from under her bed. _

"_You've got to pack your bag, now Bella. I'm so sorry…" She pulled Isabella into her arms and gripped onto her, pulling her so close to her chest she was sure she could feel Bella's heartbeat. What had she done? She was about to take her ten year old daughter away from all she knew, but she couldn't bear the thought of leaving her with a despondent and upset father. Renée thought Isabella would be safer with her. Reluctantly, she set her daughter down on the ground and ordered her to start packing. _

_The two of them spent the next ten minutes packing for the road trip, wondering what was in store for them next. When would they see Charlie again? Neither of them was sure. _

"_Mom, I'm finished," Isabella called from the doorway, pulling a wheelie suitcase behind her. It was clear from her red-rimmed eyes that she had shed a few tears too._

"_So am I, darling," she responded, pushing her suitcase shut and tugging the zip along. "We're all set."_

_The pair of them quickly made their way down the stairs only to see that Charlie still sat in his chair, staring into the TV set. Renée directed for her daughter to put her shoes and coat on, as she did so herself. She picked up her keys from the table beside the door. Finally, she tugged her wedding and engagement rings off and set them on the same table._

"_I'm sorry!" she called as she tugged Isabella out of the door and put their suitcases into the back of the car. She and Charlie had bought it two years ago as an anniversary present to themselves… ten meaningless years. _

_Renée buckled Isabella into the back of the car and rushed around to the driver's seat, still wiping tears from her face. It was dark and a fog was rolling in from the ocean—not even the moon was visible, despite the fact that it was full. She pulled out of the driveway and drove off into the night, wracking sobs taking hold of her as she handled the steering wheel. She knew she was weaving, and she knew she couldn't see. But she had to be strong for her daughter, they had to keep going._

_But nothing ever did run smooth._

**. . .**

Edward sat in stunned silence. He wasn't quite sure what to say.

"So there you have it," Isabella said, to cut the quiet.

"Why did you think I would be angry?" he asked, crawling over to where she sat. Somewhere in the memory, she had fallen to her feet. This was something she had wanted to forget for so long, and yet it was still all there, as clear as day in her mind. She hated it and she loved it. This was the clearest memory she had left of her mother, but she wished she could remember something more positive this well instead.

"Because my mother was an idiot; she didn't stop when she probably knew she shouldn't be driving," she said simply.

"She was distraught…" Edward mumbled. "I can't really blame her for it." He sighed now, knowing the words but not entirely sure if he should speak them. "It's not as if I had anything to live for, anyway."

"Do you really think that?" Isabella asked incredulously. Edward nodded, regretfully.

"I had no family, they all died. And I was too upset to connect with anyone, or too stubborn; I can't decide." He half laughed at his own joke.

"How old were you?" Isabella asked.

"I was twenty-three."

"Jesus…" Isabella hissed. "It's really not fair. I'm sorry for my mother." She reached out for his hand. "I'm really sorry."

"And I'm sorry for hitting your car," he replied. "Were you injured?"

Isabella carefully lifted her coat and top to the freezing air, baring the straight line of pink scar tissue to Edward. He leaned closer to study it.

"That's where they cut you for surgery?" Edward gestured to the line in her skin. Isabella nodded. "I'm sorry."

She lowered her top, shaking her head at him before she began to speak. "No-one was to blame. It was an accident." Edward nodded in agreement.

"I'm still sorry, though," Edward insisted. He smiled slightly, and so did she. "How old were you when it happened?"

"Eleven."

"I'm sorry you remember so clearly, still."

Isabella had to put him right, he didn't seem to understand. "Stop saying sorry; no-one was to blame." He nodded as he had before, but unsmiling.

He took both of her hands in his and pulled her into his chest, hugging her closely. She could hear the absence of a heartbeat, and yet Isabella wasn't chilled. It didn't frighten her. Not as it had before. This was Edward, a dead man. He could do nothing to hurt her as she could do nothing to hurt him.

He pulled a full breath in, gasping as he looked up into the sky.

"The darkness is radiant," he said smiling. She looked up to him, then to the sky. "Thank you, Isabella." His teeth were white as he grinned wider than ever before. "I can leave." Isabella felt his substance fading, felt him becoming less than material. He was leaving now, and she likely would never see him again.

"Will I ever see you again, Edward?" she asked sadly. Now that she'd met him, she didn't want him to go. Wasn't death cruel? It took away the very best of times in the blink of an eye, and this was the lightest Isabella had felt in a long time. Who could she speak to now? How could she carry on with no-one to talk to about the past? She stood, stepping away from him before she fell onto the cold ground. Edward rose with her, gazing wondrously at his hands. She couldn't bear to see him go.

"I'm sure of it, Isabella," he said jovially. The tips of his hair were disappearing completely now.

"When?" she cried, tears now falling from her eyes afresh.

"Soon!" he shouted, stepping back. He was fading fast.

"I don't want you to go!"

"But I must, Isabella."

"Please!"

"We will meet again—I'm sure of it!" His shout seemed to echo around the clearing as he took several more steps back. He turned around; the darkness at the back of his head was light now as he walked into the wood fire. His figure faded into the fire then, and with his spirit went the brightly burning fire in a flash. It was as if there had never been any fire at all—she could smell no smoke.

Isabella stood there for a moment in shock, silently wondering whether she was entirely sane. Had the ghost of Edward Masen been real? Or was she so desperate to talk about the accident that her mind would create someone for her? She didn't know. Isabella took a slow breath in of the night air, cooling her chest and filling her lungs. She felt calmed by this revelation, this meeting with the dead. She felt she could face the world anew, but in his short absence yearned for her departed friend. In her mind, she clung to the idea of meeting him again, just as promised. Though far down, in her heart of hearts, it was a given that when the passed left—they were never seen again. _She knew_.

"_BELLA_!" her father's voice called through the trees frantically. "WHERE ARE YOU?"

"Over here," she whispered quietly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

By chance they seemed to keep meeting, the blue eyed boy with blonde hair and Isabella Swan. There was an undeniable attraction between them; she would look up and he down to his newspaper, and he would look up to her when he was sure she was truly looking at him. Across the subway train, from across the airport, from across a road, their eyes would undoubtedly meet. Yet neither of them acted upon it, for months.

**. . .**

'_BIKER RESPONSIBLE FOR DEATH OF FIVE' read the front page of The Times, along with a hard-hitting picture of the car pileup the biker had been involved in. Apparently a driver had been forced to swerve off the road to avoid a biker, straight into the path of a goods truck. Isabella looked up from the headline with a burn in her stomach to find the face of a very handsome man of about her age. He was blonde and he wore rimless glasses as his brow furrowed in concentration. Isabella observed that there was no ring on his ring finger, but that his hands were as masculine as his face. She smiled in appreciation of the man who sat across the train carriage from her, absorbed in the text on the rustling, printed pages. Silently she wondered what he was reading, all the while contemplating what his interests were. Isabella Swan? Shaking her head she returned her attention to the pages of her book._

**. . .**

_Jasper spoke animatedly with his new work friend Peter on the morning commute; it made a nice change from the newspaper. Peter was talking about his girlfriend of six months happily, bouncing off ideas with Jasper about what he could do for Charlotte's birthday. It was in May, a month away._

"_So she likes Vampire Weekend a lot, and She Wants Revenge… but I don't know what CDs she has and which she doesn't," Peter babbled._

"_Ask her to show you her CD collection, Pete," Jasper replied simply._

"_But wouldn't that be a giveaway?" Peter wondered, casting his eye about the train carriage for inspiration._

"_Well even if it is, she won't care. She'll be happy to see you thinking about it, right? Don't stress." Peter nodded in agreement just as his eyes lighted on a pretty brown-eyed girl who had her attention completely fixed on Jasper. She seemed to feel his eyes on her and quickly looked back to her book. Peter laughed under his breath at the girlishness of her demeanour, chuckled at how _high school_ it was. _

_When they came to their stop, Peter made sure Jasper was aware of the attraction he had seen in the girl's eyes. _

"_Didn't you notice her?" Peter began as they stepped onto the platform._

"_Who?" Jasper inquired._

"_The girl who stared at you from the moment we got on, to the moment we got off?" Peter laughed at the shock on his friend's face, the complete and utter disbelief. Jasper's jaw even dropped. "Wow, you didn't notice _at all_?" he sniggered._

"_No," Jasper replied shortly. _

"_Look out for the brown-eyed girl with a book, she will be watching you."_

**. . .**

_So he did, Jasper waited for Isabella Swan to step onto the train carriage each day of the next working week—offered her a smile when he saw her look his way. The sweet blush that spread across her cheeks, then to her breast, became a familiar sight to him. After two weeks, he plucked up the courage to ask her name._

"_Bella Swan," she replied, a shy smile upon her face. "What's yours?"_

"_Jasper Whitlock."_

_And that had been the end of their interlude on the underground, at least for a Monday morning. It had been entirely to Isabella's shock he even acknowledged her existence that week. After all, three months had passed quite happily with his thoughts completely absorbed in the newspaper…_

**. . .**

"_Bella!" Jasper exclaimed as she walked towards him across the airport. He almost hadn't recognised her, dressed as she was in a light blue blouse and jeans; he was so used to seeing her in her skirted suit. She dragged a suitcase behind her, as well as a tall brunette with purple rimmed glasses. Isabella looked up in shock at her name being called, then focused her gaze on his face—there was the blush he had come to expect. _

_They happened to be boarding the same flight. _

"_Hello Jasper," Isabella replied hesitantly, noticing the inquisitive expression on her friend's face. "I didn't expect to see you here." She laughed under her breath, wondering at the strange twist of fate that this was._

"_No, me neither." Jasper put his eyes on Isabella's friend, silently suggesting an introduction._

"_Oh, I'm sorry, where are my manners? Angela, this is Jasper who rides on the subway with me; Jasper, this is Angela, a good friend of mine." The two shook hands politely, smiling slightly though it didn't touch their eyes. Isabella couldn't help but be pleased by this… she wanted Jasper to herself. _

"_Nice to meet you, Angela," Jasper murmured, this sentiment she quickly reciprocated. _

_At this point, Jasper realised his error. He did not know Bella Swan, only recognised her as 'the girl on the train'. He did not know her age, her job… what brought her to New York. What could they discuss?_

_Thankfully, Angela alleviated the situation by pressing at Isabella with more details of their trip. Jasper was content to turn around and pretend he had never spoken to them, never even knew them. _

_At least it wasn't awkward._

**. . .**

_Today Jasper was forced to stand on the train to work; there was a large group of school kids filling up the carriage so anyone who came on at his stop had no choice. At the next stop, he knew Isabella was to step on and anticipated her arrival. He was determined that today they would have a real conversation. So when the train stopped and the doors opened up, he was more than thrilled as Isabella was first to get on. She observed the carriage, filled as it was, with a crease between her eyes. He could almost imagine what was going through her mind. _Damnit!

_Exhaling, she leant against a pole on the end of a row of seats and gripped her briefcase tightly._

"_Hello, Bella," Jasper called as the train began to move again. He worked his way through the people to stand beside her. She blushed as she looked up._

"_Hello, Jasper," was her quiet response. She shifted as the train moved, desperate to keep her balance. It would be beyond embarrassing if she fell over in _his_ presence; though she he hoped he might catch her. _

"_How are you?" he inquired gently, placing his hand beside hers on the pole. _

"_I'm all right, thank you. Are you?" She looked up at him through her eyelashes, though not to flirt—just to look at him. She was too nervous to _really_ look at him. Jasper wasn't fazed. _

"_I'm good, too." He offered her the same smile he had been offering her for months, hoping that something different would happen each time he did so. But it was the same as ever: she blushed and then looked away. "I'd be even better if you'd look at me," he mumbled under his breath._

_Isabella pretended she had not heard that. _

"_You always look so smart, Bella, I have wonder what your job is." She smiled at this. It must have been the briefcase that gave him such an inflated impression of her importance. It was not unlike those bankers in Wall Street might carry. _

"_I'm just an editor for an online magazine. It's nothing major, but I have to carry a lot of materials home. That's what the briefcase is for." _

"_Ah, right. That makes sense. What do you edit?" He sounded genuinely interested, which was beyond any expectations Isabella could have had. _

"_I usually edit the book reviews. I've worked my way up. Only a year ago I was writing those reviews, and then my boss decided it was time I got promoted." She laughed to herself; she had not meant to blow her own trumpet so loudly. Jasper looked impressed though._

"_That's good. I never really got into books much myself. I guess I never read the right ones for me to get interested." Isabella's expression grew truly concerned at that. Who could go through life without the quiet solace that a great narrative created? It was certainly the only real retreat she had._

"_That is sad. What movies do you like? Maybe I can recommend you a book that will suit your taste?" He looked taken aback by this, and Isabella wished she had not suggested it. "Of course, only if you want to."_

_He paused a moment as the doors opened and passengers got off and on. There were only two more stops before he had to go for work. "I'm only pausing because I'm afraid to admit that I don't have time to read. By the time I get home from work, I can barely stay awake to shove some dinner down my throat before I go to bed." Her eyes grew wide at this._

"_What do you do?" she finally inquired._

"_I'm a stock broker, unfortunately. But it pays." He smirked at that. "I do moonlight at some bars though, just to play the guitar and sing. It was my hobby in high school and I couldn't quite bring myself to give it up." The train screamed to a halt at that moment and one of the girls on the school trip fell into Jasper's chest. It was all she could do to grab onto his suit jacket and attempt to pull herself upright again. Of course, she had not calculated that he would be unable to support himself as well, holding loosely onto the pole as he was. The result was a human domino as he fell into another person; the old man behind him fell and so on and so forth until there were no more people left in its path to fall. _

_Isabella looked on in shock, almost unable to believe what had transpired. But when she did finally realise what happened, all she could do was laugh as she offered a hand to Jasper. The girl who had caused the whole event was so slight that it was surprising how much damage she had caused. She scrambled to her feet first, apologizing frantically to Jasper on her way up._

"_I'm so sorry, sir! I don't even know what happened! One second I was holding onto the pole and then the driver just slammed on the brakes and I slipped." She did not even take a breath as she spoke. "I'm just really sorry about that, it was my mistake. Are you okay? I hope I didn't rip your suit, it was just such a shock I didn't really care what I grabbed onto…" _

_As Jasper get to his feet he quickly turned to help the old man up, who stumbled on his feet when they finally found purchase. All the while, Isabella was struggling to contain hysterical giggles. Typically, those who had fallen might have also laughed. But they were still in shock. _

_Eventually Jasper had to acknowledge the girl's apologies._

"_It's fine, kid. No worries. My suit is intact and so am I. Don't think about it." And it was, though dusty on the back._

"_You've got a little dust on your back there, Jasper…" Isabella mumbled as she went to brush it off. She ran her hands swiftly across the line of his shoulders and then in quick straight lines down his back. He didn't protest, but rather enjoyed the feeling of her hands on him, innocent though it was. _

"_Thanks," was all he said in return, though he paired it with a winning smile. Still the girl was anxious to make up for her mistake._

"_Please, isn't there something I can do?" Jasper looked down at her. She could not be more than fifteen years old, yet she seemed more responsible than most girls he knew of that age. _

"_All you can do is go on your trip or whatever you're doing; don't think about the poor guy you knocked over on the subway. Forget about this whole thing. That's what you can do for me." He offered her a kind smile too. The deal was done. She nodded and moved back into the fold of the teenagers she had previously been sharing the carriage with._

"_That was very nice of you. I know a few guys who might have demanded she pay his dry cleaning bill," Isabella said with a laugh. _

"_Bah," he scoffed. "No harm, no foul." At this point, the train came to a stop at Jasper's station. He looked out the carriage window to the busy platform then turned to Isabella again. "This is me," he said with regret. Still, he would see her again tomorrow._

"_Yep." She smiled. "See you tomorrow. You'll have to let me know where I can see you play, soon."_

"_Will do!" he shouted as he exited the train and went on to his business. Isabella sighed and stifled another laugh at the image of the human domino and then moved her attention onto the work that lay ahead._

**. . .**

A week later they happened to be crossing the same New York road. Inevitably, their eyes met and each smiled. They had made arrangements to meet the next night; this was just a coincidence, and it seemed there had been so many of them. It was almost a joke.

The lights changed and Jasper crossed the road to greet Isabella.

"This is a pleasant surprise," he chuckled. She opened her arms to hug him. They knew each other that well now. She knew that he was 28 and liked rock music as he knew that she was 25 and liked folk music. She knew that he always got the paper in the morning only to look at the funny page. He knew that she read books on the way to work that were pertinent to the day ahead.

Small elements of the people that made up Isabella Swan and Jasper Whitlock.

"It's good to see you too," she murmured into his chest. She was only as tall as the bottom of his chin; the perfect height to rest there and weather the world. So she thought.

**A/N: Long time no chapter. Sorry for that. I hope you enjoyed this and are willing to wait for updates. I can't keep up with this and have a chance at going to University this year, unfortunately. lol Hope you are willing to wait! Thank you to anyone who has bothered to get this far, I know my waiting times are crap. heh**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The first thing that struck Isabella as she pushed the heavy wooden doors open was the heavy smell of beer in the air. It seemed to stick to every surface and made her feel sick at first, before she got used to it. The unwelcome reminder of her own home back in Forks was the real trouble. Rock music poured out of the speakers and filled the room; Isabella could not identify the band to tell if it was even obscure or popular. The people in the bar seemed to be enjoying it though, as she saw several people bobbing their heads along to it, or clapping their hands against their knees to the beat. The whole room seemed to be focused on the small platform that stood off to the left in the dark, and she wondered what could be drawing such interest. She was sure Jasper had told her he didn't start until 9 o'clock…

Isabella checked her phone just in case.

Just then the bartender called out to her. She was dressed all in black and wore her platinum blonde hair tied up in a bun.

"What's your poison?" she inquired with a crooked grin.

"Just the house red for me, please," she replied. With that, the woman turned away to get her drink. Isabella quickly approached the bar and chose a stool conveniently placed beside her. She began to rifle through her bag for her purse as the bartender was returning, but before she could find it Jasper was there handing her a $10 bill.

Isabella looked up at him with a smile. "Thanks, Jasper." She pulled a $5 note out of her purse and held it out to him.

"Keep it. My treat," he smiled. For that Isabella stood and gave him a hug. "It's not as if I can't afford it, is it?" he laughed.

"This is true!"

"So what do you want?" he asked her as she took a sip of wine. "Nachos? Skinny fries?" He gestured for the bartender to come back, who he called by name as Erin.

"Oh, I already ate. Sorry!" Isabella's expression was truly apologetic.

"Ah, no worries… Can I get a Budweiser, please?" he said, speaking to Erin.

"So how was your day?" was Isabella's next inquiry. It was a Saturday, so they had not met that morning on the subway. She did not have much of an idea of how he spent his weekends; she supposed this was a good opportunity to find out.

"Mine was good, I just met up with a couple of friends who I haven't seen for a while—not since I lived in Texas."

"You used to live in Texas?" She had not detected any kind of southern drawl that people joked about (dreamed about) in Washington.

"Not for fifteen years. You wouldn't know I had ever lived there at all from my accent… You look somehow disappointed, Bella," he said with a half smile. At that point his beer arrived and he handed Erin the other half of the $10 bill.

"I'm not disappointed, just surprised. Under all of that New York is actually a _southerner_."

"You make it sound like a dirty word!" he exclaimed with a laugh, jokingly punching her in the arm. She pretended to rub her arm in pain.

"It's not meant that way, honestly." Her smile was genuine enough, so he chose to believe her. She took another sip of wine.

"So where are you from? I have revealed my southern roots—now let's hear about your own roots."

"I come from a very small town in Washington called Forks."

"Forks as in… the cutlery?" he laughed. There was something in his face that made Isabella think this was not the first time he had heard of it though. But she did not want to pry, and chose to move on. _He must have a good reason to pretend_, she thought.

"Yep. There's even a restaurant there to prove it."

"How quaint," was Jasper's joking murmur into his sip of beer. Now it was Isabella's turn to look offended.

"It _is_ quaint actually, very quaint." She punched him in the arm to make his good. "So what town is it you're actually from?"

"I am from Houston, actually."

"Such a big city?" Jasper nodded. "You fit right in New York then," she chuckled. "Moving to New York, for me, was a big shock. I had never seen a Gap store when I got here; that's how small Forks is. I had never been among so many nationalities, so many cultures; I hardly knew how to deal with it all." Jasper raised his eyebrows at this. The wine was beginning to make Isabella slur her speech a little. Obviously she was not a regular drinker.

"That must have been difficult," Jasper replied. "The move to New York for me was not as odd, I'm sure. But it was still different. Different atmosphere, different weather, different shops—just not quite the same jump in size as it was for you." Isabella smiled at this.

"I'm afraid that I'm not used to drinking wine, Jasper, I feel a little fuzzy." In a tribute to his good nature, he simply laughed and said:

"Then that better be the only glass you have, there's still a half hour till I go up." He took a gulp of his beer as she drank the last few drops of her wine.

"So why do you love playing the guitar so much? I was always terrible at trying to play instruments; I would either trip over them or break the strings or something would go wrong. So it was just eventually given up when I turned eleven…" Isabella trailed off there, a memory from the back of her mind coming to the forefront again. She squinted for a moment, and then it passed.

"There were two things I was good at as a kid: music and numbers. The way I saw it, I had to pick one for a career and one to sit on the side. My dad always said it was useless trying to become a musician: there was no money in it, it was impossible to crack the industry—all of that stuff, you know the deal. No-one in my family had gone to university before, either. So there was all that encouragement coming from my parents and grandparents, aunts and distant great uncles, even the damned dog it seemed like. Economics was a good way to go for that, considering I had never failed a Math test in my whole life. And then there was the fact that my dad knew someone who knew someone who knew someone else, who could save me a place in his firm. Which is where I work now. I just had to get the degree.

"Music is _my_ thing though. It keeps me sane and human. I don't mind that I never had the chance to try and make it in the business. At least I make enough money to support my hobby." Isabella was leaning on the bar now, her head resting on her arm on the countertop. Some might have said she was gazing into the heavens.

"That's so brave. Standing four years of hard university work that you didn't even enjoy? For your family? That takes a lot of determination, Jasper." He shrugged off her compliments.

"It wasn't really _that_ bad…" Isabella pressed a hand to his face.

"Don't try to be all macho," she smiled.

"It honestly wasn't though. It was fine. Straight forward. Easy. And I made a lot of good friends while I was there."

"Where did you study?" Isabella asked with a furrowed brow.

"New York University. Not major."

"But you majored in Math, didn't you?" Jasper closed his eyes in mock anguish at the bad joke. Isabella laughed evilly.

"That was truly awful," he replied with a grin.

"I know!"

A loud voice came over the speakers: "_This is the last song before Jasper comes to set up, so enjoy!"_

"Oooooh, not long now till I get to hear you sing!" Isabella was in fact really excited; this was no mockery. Just then Wicked Game came on the speakers.

"No way!" Jasper exclaimed. "I haven't heard these guys in years!" Isabella of course had no idea who he was talking about and quirked an eyebrow to illustrate this. "It's HIM."

"HIM?" she inquired, pointing to a man standing away from them.

"No, that's the name of the band," he laughed. "I admit it's an odd name, but they used to play really good stuff. Listen." He gestured to the speakers above their heads.

"_What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way. What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you_…"

"Isn't this a cover of Chris Isaak?" Isabella mumbled. Jasper shrugged.

"Possibly."

"I barely recognise it, but the lyrics are familiar," she trailed off, her mind elsewhere.

They continued to stand there listening until the last chords played out and Jasper was called up again.

"See you in a minute, Jasper! Break a leg!" The grin she gave him made him want to kiss it away, but he resisted the urge. There would be the perfect moment another time, and he wanted to take it. For the mean time, he was content to befriend her and hang out.

Soon their time would come.

**A/N: Now there really will probably be a bit of a wait. haha Hope you enjoyed this much shorter chapter though, nonetheless. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_Isabella woke from her dream, startled into reality by the familiar guitar riff that used to wake her every morning for school. She reached for the off button on the alarm clock before she could get too into the song. Pressing her hands to her eyes and rubbing them, she sat up and observed the pale light of dawn streaming through her window. The shadows of rain drops across the window pane made a spotted pattern across her floor and walls. _

_Today was the first day back after meeting Edward in the woods, and she was not sure how she would be able to cope on her return to school. Charlie had put her on house arrest since that night and had barely let her out of his sight for the past week. But today they were both going back to real life, and the thought was daunting._

_A knock came at Isabella's bedroom door before Charlie stepped in. He took in her appearance quickly, checking she had not cried again in the night: her eyes were not red. "Ready for school, Bells?" he inquired. _

_Isabella could not ignore the double meaning, and so responded in kind. "Yes, I'm ready." Charlie gave a brief, Chief's nod, then stepped back into the hallway and downstairs to make breakfast._

_Isabella left her bed and swiftly dressed, ignoring the soreness still in her arms from the branches that had cut her. When Charlie had found her, she was shivering with cold and curled up on the hard ground with deep cuts in her arms and sodden boots. She looked like death had visited her, and he had no idea if it had because she had not told him anything of what happened out in the woods. He knew it was more than upset with him, for she had not protested when he took her up into his arms and carried her home. Something awful had happened to her and he did not know how to help her. _

_Charlie looked into therapists in the local area, but the closest one was in Port Angeles and he was not sure she would go; he could not take her himself. Besides, he knew that Isabella was more like him than she ever was her mother. The Swans were not talking people._

**. . .**

"What do you have lined up for me, tonight?" Isabella said excitedly into the phone. Jasper had called to double check she was still able to meet with him that night.

"Oh, lots of things…" he replied ominously. Isabella's stomach clenched at what he promised.

"That does not help me pick out something to wear," she said jokingly, turning her mind to other things. "Come on, what kind of thing are we going to? I don't want to dress up and then find that we're picking through trash in a dumpster—"

"What gave you the idea that I rummage through dumpsters to pass the time?" he laughed.

"I don't know! Which is the point actually; I really don't know what you have planned tonight."

"You wouldn't think we had been dating for three months, would you?" Jasper murmured. He tried to make it sound like a joke, but Isabella could sense some hurt in his voice. She was instantly remorseful of her thoughtless words.

"I'm sorry, I'm just nervous," she mumbled, hoping to rid his voice of that sadness.

"There's no need to be nervous," he said with a sigh. Finally he relented: "Look, we're just going out to dinner, nowhere fancy. Better? Have your nerves been calmed?"

Isabella grinned. "Much." Jasper could hear the smile in her voice, and could not stop the one also spreading across his face.

"I'll stop by your place at seven, okay?"

"Okay," Isabella replied, twisting a lock of hair around her finger.

"Bye Bella."

"See you tonight."

**. . .**

"_Hello, Bella," was Mike Newton's perpetually friendly greeting. He was just climbing out of his car when he saw her, and his eyes lit up at the sight of her. Isabella had noted long ago that Mike liked her, but could not seem to find it in her heart to feel the same way. He was just… _Mike_. _

"_Hi Mike," she replied, stopping, thinking it impolite to carry on walking. Perhaps he could tell her what had happened at school in her absence, not that she really cared. It was something to listen to other than her 'what if' mental ramblings, though._

"_I'm glad you're back. I know it was the anniversary. I'm sorry." Isabella waved his condolences off._

"_I'd rather not think about it to be honest. What did I miss?" Mike chose to humour her, a smile lifting his face._

"_Well, Coach Clapp has broken his leg falling off a ladder, so he's off for the next month…" Isabella was only too pleased to hear that her Gym classes were cancelled. She had never got along with sports of any kind, but Coach Clapp seemed to have a sadistic turn to him and always tried to make her take part. He seemed to think she only needed practice. Isabella knew better._

"_Hey!" Jessica called to them across the parking lot as they were about to step inside the main building. "You're back!" The smile that lit up her whole face warmed Isabella. It was nice to know that there were some people who noticed and cared when she was not there. She could cling to these people as she could not cling to Edward._

_Jessica caught up to them and they walked together to their respective classes. Jessica chattered away at Isabella with all the latest gossip in the town, clearly glad to have someone who was nice enough to listen. Most people did not care to hear what Jessica had to say._

_In Spanish, Jessica eventually worked up the nerve to ask about how Bella was feeling._

"_I'm doing fine, thank you," she replied. Jessica could tell she did not truly mean it. The smile Isabella tried to wear only looked like a grimace and Jessica almost wished she had not asked. _Almost_. Maybe she could help her friend?_

"_Is there anything you want to talk about, Bella? I'm here if you need me," Jessica said kindly. It sounded like a genuine offer. She had to admit that it was tempting; but it did not take a genius to know that if she attempted to approach anyone with her story, they would most likely ship her off to some kind of mental facility. But she knew it had been real, or else how could she remember it so well?_

"_Thanks Jess."_

**. . .**

Isabella's buzzer rang, calling her to the phone. She was just putting her rose studs on when it rang. She hastily pushed the backs on as she went to the phone.

"Hello?" she spoke into the handset. She knew who it would be, but just in case, she kept some of the eagerness out of her voice. He was five minutes early.

"Hey, Bella, let me up?" She smiled.

"Sure!" Then she pressed the buzzer, unlocking the door downstairs to let Jasper in. She opened her front door to see him climbing up the stairs. A smile lit his face when he saw her, nearly ready to go except for her makeup. He could not say she was any less beautiful than she already was though and pulled her close for a kiss. Her breath was minty and she smiled against his mouth, wrapping her arm around him and pushing her hand into his hair. Absentmindedly Jasper pushed the door closed behind him and wrapped both arms around her. It was a searing kiss and Isabella had to wonder what had brought it on—not that she was complaining. It was just a shame that they were planning to go out.

After several minutes Jasper finally pulled away from her, but only to look at her face. Her eyes were dark, the colour seemingly intensified by the passion of the kiss. A small smile lifted the corners of her eyes in happiness.

"We're all right, aren't we?" He could sense worry behind the seemingly innocent question and wondered what could have caused it.

"Of course we are." He kissed her forehead in adoration. They were not quite at the 'love' stage yet, but they could both tell that it was close. _They were close_. She leant against his chest, wrapping her arms around his chest and pressing her face close; she could hear his heartbeat. Steady.

**. . .**

"_What exactly did Edward say to you, Bella?" the woman asked, wearing the customary look of concern all therapists and psychiatrists seemed to wear. Isabella had not wanted this, but when she had not regained the exuberance her father expected of her in three months, he had decided that it was time she went to therapy._

"_He said a few things," Isabella replied evasively. She could not see the use in telling this woman anything. They spent only one hour per week together; this woman could not help her to move on when it was the people surrounding her that held her back. _

"_Anything in particular?" she said nonchalantly. She wore a lilac blouse and short, black pencil skirt with tights and black patent heels. She did not belong in this drab room, talking to this girl who could not open up. _

_Yet she persevered._

_Isabella could not understand it._

**. . .**

Isabella and Jasper held hands as they walked into a Thai restaurant on 9th Avenue. A waitress showed them to their table and walked away, promising to return for their order. They were sat across from each other, Isabella Swan and Jasper Whitlock, able to observe each other's expressions without anything hidden. Both had decided privately that if a painful issue came up, they would try to be candid; this relationship mattered too much for it to be broken by insecurities and secrets. They both knew it.

Isabella rested her chin on her hands and looked around the room. Its walls were decorated by red paint and mahogany coloured wood panelling went all around the room. This theme continued into the criss-cross pattern of the half walls that separated each booth around the edges of the room. The middle section was open and loud; it seemed like half of Manhattan had decided to converge on this restaurant that particular evening. This made it hard to hear what each other were saying.

Jasper could see Isabella's mouth moving but could not pick out her voice from the other forty voices in the room. He had to ask her to repeat herself three times before he finally understood. If he only had known that it would be so crowded this evening, he would have taken her elsewhere.

"I'm really sorry, Bella," he yelled. "Do you want to go somewhere else? There must be somewhere quieter…" She strained to hear him over the din, but managed after a moment of mulling over the pockets of sound she had heard, putting the words together like a difficult jigsaw puzzle of sound.

She pointed to a drape that hung tied to the post their seats were attached to in the booth. "We could release that?" she suggested.

"Do you think they'd let us?" he replied, certain there was most probably a fire hazard clause somewhere about that.

"We'll see," she said mischievously. At that moment she unhooked the drape on her side and let it fall; Jasper did the same. Now the noise was greatly reduced, they smiled at each other. It was probably only a matter of time until the waitress came to tell them to hang them back up, but they were grateful for the moment of peace. Their hands clutched together across the table.

"What are you having?"

**. . .**

"_Bella? Are you listening to me?" Charlie called, reaching his hand across the table to shake her. She had been doing this a lot recently and it had been part of the reason he had decided to send her to therapy. His deputies had been understanding when he told them he needed time to take his daughter to get some help. They had graciously taken it in turns each week to cover the Chief's shift. It had not seemed to make any difference yet, though._

_She blinked twice and focus returned. "Sorry? What were you saying?" Charlie sighed, setting down his fork and clasping his hands together under his chin. Isabella could see he meant to communicate something important to her—not that she particularly wanted to hear it._

"_I was saying that maybe you should start hanging out with Jacob Black? You used to be good friends with his sisters, but I don't think Sarah ever let Jacob play with the three of you. She didn't think it would be much fun for the kid, especially as Rebecca and Rachel were going through the teasing phase. But Jake's a good kid, and he's only a couple of years younger than you." Isabella resisted the urge to roll her eyes._

"_Dad, I don't really think that's a good idea. If he's thirteen right now, I doubt if he'd even let me close enough to him for fear of catching cooties." _

"_Jacob's very grown up, Bella, I don't think he's like that at all…" Charlie said doubtfully._

"_Well I don't feel like making new friends at the moment; I have Jess and Angela and Mike. Is there something wrong with them?" Charlie's eyes narrowed._

"_There's nothing wrong with them, but you don't ever see them!"_

"_Yes I do, I saw them only yesterday," she replied curtly._

"_I mean outside of school, Bells," Charlie said, his voice waning. He was getting to the end of his tether, and Isabella could see it getting ready to snap._

"_I'll arrange to meet up with them this weekend. It's meant to be nice weather… maybe we can go to the beach?" Charlie smiled at the prospect. He could drop her off there on his way to meet Billy. "Okay?"_

"_Good," he replied, satisfied._

**. . .**

The waitress, to their surprise, had not asked them to pull the drapes apart again, though of course she had to briefly while she took their order. In truth, she sympathised with the couple; she could hardly hear herself think, so what must it be like to be on a date and in that position? Her manager had never _specifically_ mentioned the drapes could not be closed.

So it was without much quibble that she served them their food, pushing aside the drapes with her customers' aid. They were only too pleased.

"This looks _good_," Isabella murmured with a wide smile. She picked up her fork—because she had never quite got to grips with chopsticks—and started eating her food straight away. "How did you find this place?"

Jasper swallowed a bite of his own food before he answered. "I came here once for a business meeting. The client was difficult to catch, so I had to go wherever he was going to cut the deal. I remember that I had already eaten my lunch at work, but I went anyway and when I got here the smell of the food just made me hungry again." He chuckled to himself at the memory, at the desperation of being a newbie on the job. Eager to please; no task is too big or too small. That was a while ago.

"Is that when you were new?" she inquired, genuinely interested.

"Yes, I was very new. I had barely been in the job a month."

"I remember that feeling of inferiority you start out with. All the people around you make it look so easy and you just want to be as good as them. You want to _fit in_." Jasper nodded in understanding.

"That's absolutely it!" Jasper ate another mouthful of his Kung Pao chicken.

"And then there's the 'getting to know you' period where everyone is just probing you constantly for information about yourself. At my place, they're surprisingly snobby about what college you went to. It's a joke really, considering how many of them never even went…" Isabella grumbled, pushing another bite of food into her mouth bitterly.

"It's good when you find someone nice and normal. Then you make friends. That's got to be the best part of it," Jasper replied, hoping to move her mind away from unpleasant memories. "Peter is a good friend of mine; I'd have been lost without him in the start."

"That's great, that you can get along with the people you work with. I haven't yet managed to make any friends here—apart from you, of course." Isabella smiled, though Jasper found this fact saddening. How could she have spent so long in this massive city without a friend?

"Surely there's someone, Bella?"

She shook her head. "Not really. My friends are back in Washington, I try to call them every so often."

"So you've been living here for four years… and you haven't made a single friend?" Jasper was incredulous.

"When you put it like that, it sounds worse than it has been. I honestly don't mind." She really had not minded; Charlie, Angela and Jess were just a phone call away when she was feeling lonely. She had her work to occupy her too, to keep that loneliness at bay as long as possible. Her smile, apparently, was not convincing enough.

"I'll take you to meet Peter and Charlotte next weekend; they've been asking to meet you for weeks now and I reckon it's about time they did." Jasper reached his hand across the table to take hers. It was a comforting gesture, and Isabella found herself nodding in agreement. Why not?

"Okay."

"Great."

**A/N: A little different from the last couple of chapters, but I hope you can appreciate what I'm doing here. haha :) Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Smile_!" Isabella forced a grin as Jessica took the picture. _

"That's a really nice picture of you two, Bella," Charlotte cooed, turning the camera around to show them. Jasper had an arm casually slung over Isabella's shoulders; both wore blinding white smiles. "I'm so glad you came over today, it's a good one for a barbecue." Peter was inside the small townhouse that he and Charlotte had recently moved into, grabbing his and Jasper's third bottle of beer from the chiller. They had been waiting for an opportunity to use the small patch of grass that lay out back, so when the weather forecast proved favourable, they had decided to change their evening date to an afternoon barbecue. Neither Isabella nor Jasper minded.

"Yeah, it is," Isabella replied with a gentle smile. "Email it to me?" Charlotte nodded.

"So how has your week been?" Jasper inquired, sitting back in his garden chair.

"Oh, not too bad. We've just been unpacking most of the time," she chuckled. "It's hard to believe how much stuff you can accumulate in only a few short years." Charlotte's accent had a slight English lilt to it: a product of studying there for her English Literature degree. It only became more apparent when she pronounced words like, 'accumulate' and 'short', which were so clearly pronounced in entirely different ways across the pond. Isabella wished to ask her more about her time there, as Jasper had explained to her that Charlotte had quite the experience out there.

"I know what you mean," Isabella empathised. "My apartment is full of so much crap that I would have never thought about when I was living back home…"

"You just pick up loads of knick-knacks, don't you? New place, new people. You just want to live in the moment…"

"Carpe diem." Charlotte smiled at the familiar phrase. "You did English Literature too, didn't you?" Isabella nodded. She thought she would have a valuable friend in Charlotte, if this first encounter was anything to go by.

"I studied in Washington State though; England sounds much more interesting." Charlotte took a sip of her wine as she considered her response. At the same time, Peter returned with the drinks.

"Uh oh," he mumbled, taking in Charlotte's dreamy expression. "You asked her about England, didn't you?" he said, looking at Isabella in mock accusation. Jasper laughed under his breath as Charlotte gave him a playful slap on the shoulder and Peter pretended to be in pain.

"England was very nice," she said simply. "I studied at York University for three years, and, to some degree, they were the best three years of my life—before I met Peter of course." Charlotte smiled at this, placing a hand on Peter's shoulder and rubbing at the spot she hit. "York is a very beautiful place, and I can see why they named _New_ York after it." Isabella noted the wistful tone to her voice and decided that perhaps this was a topic for discussion in private.

"Charlotte would move there if she could," Peter said matter-of-factly. "But her student visa ran out when she graduated and had to move back here." He took a swig of his beer after he said this, something of bitterness and equally something of hope in his expression. Clearly, this was a contentious topic, indeed. They had only been together for ten months, but it was obvious that they were close. Isabella did not have enough knowledge of real life relationships to know how couples worked out as big a problem as wanting to live in different countries.

"I got my summer bonus yesterday!" Jasper exclaimed, hoping to lighten the mood. Peter looked up in surprise.

"Awesome! But how come you got one and I didn't?" Again, there was the laughing look in his eyes as he pretended to be annoyed with Jasper.

"I don't know, I guess I must just work harder than you…" he trailed off. Peter stood up and gave him a challenging look; Jasper met with him toe to toe for a moment before they stood back away from each other and laughed. There was a brotherliness between them that made them seem like they had known each other since birth. I envied them that, in a sense. I was never that close to anyone in Forks, not even Angela.

**. . .**

"_Come on, Bella! Jeez, you wouldn't think it was Senior Prom," she grumbled. Jessica was frantically taking photos with her brand new camera that her parents had given her as a present for finishing high school. Tonight was Prom and they were all going as a big group, together: Isabella, Jessica, Angela, Mike, Eric and Ben. Mrs. Stanley had even hired them a limo so they could 'arrive in style.' Isabella was not sure she cared for 'style', but found it easier to just go along with what the others wanted. _

"_Go easy on her, Jess," Angela hissed, giving her friend a meaningful look. It took a moment for Jessica to realise what she meant, and then instantly felt remorseful. How thoughtless of her; Isabella was probably thinking of her mom, noticeably absent from what should have been the best night of Isabella's teenage life. A silence fell over the room for a moment as Jessica put the camera down and set about helping Angela do Isabella's hair. Why would Isabella want photos of herself being made up, anyway?_

"_Let's put some music on," Isabella said quietly, reaching for the stereo remote and pressing play. She had no idea what Pop crap Jessica was listening to, but it filled the uneasy silence that was not helping her to distract her thoughts. The therapist had made a breakthrough with her yesterday, and Isabella was still reeling from the aftermath._

**. . .**

Peter had started to put sausages and burgers on the barbecue when the shadows began to grow longer. Charlotte put on the latest _Vampire Weekend_ album as she set about getting the burger and hot dog buns out of the cupboard.

"Hey! Didn't I buy you this one for your birthday?" Peter called out, turning over the meat on the grill. Charlotte called back an affirmative as Peter reflected for a moment. He turned to look at Isabella and Jasper, their hands intertwined as they spoke about the week ahead. Peter waited for a lull in the conversation before he spoke.

"I was talking to Jasper about buying this album at the same time I saw you looking across the carriage," he said with a smile. "You have me to thank for your pairing, I think," Peter murmured proudly as he turned back to the smoking grill. Isabella observed with a laugh that he really _was_ proud, given his body language: Peter was standing taller than usual. She knew he was probably right; she would never have worked up the nerve to say 'hello' before Jasper started to notice her. "I pointed you out to him. Oblivious, he was! Oblivious!"

"It's true," Jasper shrugged. "I was much too involved in the funny page."

"That's for sure," Peter agreed, laughing. Charlotte came out to set up a folding table in the garden, and then trooped in and out with plates of bread rolls and bowls of salad.

"Do you need any help?" Isabella asked, starting to get out of her seat. Charlotte waved her off.

"No need. It's only a few little things," she replied, tucking a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear in the humidity. Isabella saw then, that Charlotte was the light to Peter's dark. She had light blonde hair and fair skin, while Peter looked vaguely Italian, if only for his dark green eyes. Isabella guessed it was true that opposites attract.

"How did you two meet?" she asked of them. They turned around to look at each other with a coy expression, questions in their eyes. Isabella noticed Jasper sitting back further in his seat with another swig of his fourth bottle of beer.

"That's a very long story," Charlotte finally replied, quickly heading inside for cutlery.

"I'm not sure if you really want to get into it," Peter finished. Isabella's ears pricked with curiosity, but did not wish to pry.

"If it's too long and involved, it's fine, I just wondered." Charlotte returned with the silverware and put it down with a clatter on the table.

The smell of smoke grew more intense suddenly, and Peter turned around to discover the meat burning. With a curse, he reached for the fork he'd been using to turn the food over and moved the meat onto the side table attached to the barbecue. "Sorry about that," he murmured.

**. . .**

_The white limo pulled up outside the Stanleys' house at around seven o'clock; the driver was dressed in the standard, black chauffeuring attire, trying to hide his annoyance at having driven from Port Angeles during the rush hour. He waited patiently as the group of teenagers took fifty photos by the limo, and smiled kindly when the precocious Stanley girl dressed in pink posed for a picture with him. He thought of the money that would be waiting for him in his bank account the following Wednesday. Eventually, they were done and he was driving them to the High School. _

_Isabella reacted in much the same way as the driver, although she did a worse job of covering her misery. She did not realise how apparent her melancholy was, but the other two girls could tell that now was not the time to bring it up. Besides, as Jessica had noted, tonight was her night to be herself—if Isabella wished to spend Prom night thinking of her mom that would be her choice. _

_Jessica took Mike's hand as they exited the limo at the school and left Isabella behind with Angela and the other two boys. Mike protested briefly, but as soon as he heard the music booming out of the school, he forgot all about Isabella._

_She was used to this by now._

**. . .**

After a few more drinks, everyone's tongues were looser, and when darkness eventually fell at around seven o'clock, the group were very merry. Charlotte had brought some candles out and lit them in several places around the garden, finding the glow from inside the house not ambient enough.

"It's _all_ in the name of ambience," Charlotte slurred with a grin. "God, I feel so grown up right now! This was exactly the sort of thing my parents used to do. I used to think they were _so boring_, but now I completely get it." She mimed taking a pull from a cigarette and blowing out the smoke. "Just like _so_." She made a disgusted face. "But I would _never_ smoke," Charlotte said sternly. Peter patted her on the back.

"Damn straight." They all nodded.

"What's it like to have two happy parents?" Isabella asked unabashedly.

"It's nice," Charlotte replied thoughtfully. "They're very _together_, together." She pressed her hands together and twined her fingers together in a mesh to demonstrate. "If I ever needed, or need anything, they're right there for me. They paid for me to go to York, actually. Everything was and is peaceful back home. That reminds me: I'm meant to call them in the morning about finally clearing out my room. They're moving to Indiana." Charlotte leaned over in her chair to press into Peter's chest. Such a sobering thought made Jasper change the subject.

"It's my birthday in two weeks," he said cheerfully. He would be turning 29 on the 7th October and it was a daunting thought for him, drawing ever closer to the dreaded 30 milestone. But he made light of it, as that was the only way to go about it, especially with all the alcohol sloshing about in his system. "I plan to have the biggest party _ever_."

"_Bigger than Michael Jackson_?" Isabella asked with wide eyes.

"Bigger than Michael Jackson." There was business in Jasper's tone.

"I'm not sure that's possible," she replied, getting up to go to the toilet. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back onto his lap, planting a kiss on her lips as she squirmed in his grasp.

"Jasper!" she gasped, worried about her alcohol hazed state combined with the incredible arousal she felt at being wrapped in his strong arms. He was like a jolt of lightning to her centre and suddenly her body felt very heated. Jasper, of course, could sense this—and grinned.

"Stop right there," Charlotte exclaimed seriously, though her speech was not easily taken seriously. "I can see what's happening here and it's not going to happen in my back yard." She stood up then, and went over to the couple to pull Isabella out of Jasper's close grip.

"But, but, but…" Jasper reluctantly let her go.

"Go to the toilet, Bella!" she yelled, pushing her inside with a shove. Once she was satisfied that Isabella was on her way to the bathroom, Charlotte allowed herself to beam with delight. "She's brilliant! I love her! Well done, Jasper!" He gave her a confused look for a moment before he realised that she meant to say she approved of Isabella, _not that he ever doubted she would_. Still, it was nice to hear.

"I agree," Peter said sleepily. "She's really great, Jaz." Jasper smiled proudly.

"Things are going really well at the moment, I like her a lot." Peter leaned over to nudge Jasper in the arm.

"That sounds like love talk, to me. Don't you think, Char?" He looked over at his girlfriend playfully.

"I think so, too," she said with a wink.

**. . .**

_Isabella stood at the back of the hall drinking punch and slowly feeling herself become a little fuzzy with it. Of course someone had spiked the punch; it was a rite of passage. She smiled for a moment at this, and then returned to watching the room. Jessica was slow dancing with Mike in the centre of the room with Angela and Ben. She was not sure where Eric had gone off to, but guessed he felt just as out of place as she did. Maybe he had gone in search of that geeky girl, Sarah, everyone liked? She did not know. _

_The Prom Committee had outdone themselves with blue drapes making a cover across the ceiling so the whole room seemed much more intimate. As well as this, fake standing candles were carefully scattered across the room at even intervals just so that the right amount of dim light filled the room. A part of Isabella wished she could enjoy tonight just like every other teenager was doing, and she knew her mom would be disappointed if she knew that Isabella was just moping around at the back of the room. But another larger part of her wondered if she _would_ be enjoying herself at her Senior Prom if the accident had not happened. Where would she be right now if her mom was still here? Where would _Edward_ be right now if that awful night had never happened?_

_And then the words of her therapist cut through: 'You never knew Edward, Bella, he was just a figment of your imagination, and he was nothing like the person you described to me.' Which translated to: 'You're out of your mind, Bella. Get over it!'_

_With so much time having passed and no sign of Edward thus far, Isabella began to wonder if this might be the truth._

**. . .**

Around eleven o'clock, Peter called Jasper and Isabella a cab home, which promptly arrived ten minutes later. They had all been starting to fall asleep after so much booze and all parties felt that it was time to go to bed. Charlotte and Isabella made arrangements to meet up for lunch in town the following Saturday and then they were on their way.

Isabella leaned into Jasper's chest and closed her eyes on the ride home, which only took twenty minutes, surprisingly. She guessed the taxi driver must be using some rat runs, because she knew the ride home should take at least half an hour.

"Shall I come in with you?" Jasper inquired, his true meaning apparent in the look in his eyes. She smiled lazily.

"Please do!" She clambered out of the cab and rummaged through her bag for her keys while Jasper paid the driver. It took her a full minute to find her keys in the dark depths of her bag, and Jasper waited impatiently at her side as she did so. It was a relief when she finally put the key in the lock and they were inside her small apartment.

Isabella kicked off her canvas shoes as she made her way to the sink for a glass of water. Jasper closed the door behind them and untied his shoes on the sofa. She came around with a glass of water for him too, to sober them up some more. He smiled in appreciation as he took a long drink and they emptied their glasses in companionable silence.

He leaned over to press a gentle kiss to her lips and she met him with searing heat. She wrapped her hands around his face and pulled him close to her, releasing a contented sigh when his chest was pressed against hers. He coaxed her into his lap, and she straddled him, feeling his growing hardness between her thighs. She began to move her hips, slowly at first, but then with more passion as the friction became more and more welcome.

"Bella," he whispered, pushing her away from him so that he could remove her top and gain access to the tender skin of her chest. She sighed as he kissed down her neck, suckling at the join of neck to collarbone, just where he knew she liked it. She whimpered, and pushed his head down, silently begging for more.

He reached around and undid her bra clasp, pulling the soft fabric from her breasts so that there would be _no_ constraints. She, in turn, reached to the bottom of his cotton t-shirt to pull it off. When their skin met, they smiled at each other as they kissed—this closeness was something they both treasured, and neither wanted to ever let it go.

"I love you," Isabella murmured in between kisses. Jasper pulled back in shock. The earnest look in her eyes told him that this was no drunken rambling, and they were both mostly sober anyway. He pulled her in for a long, lingering kiss before he released her again.

"I love you, too." With that, he picked her up with her legs wrapped around him, and carried her into the bedroom.

**A/N: *smiles* Yay! Sorry about the fade to black, but this was just the right place to finish the chapter. Hope you enjoyed it...**


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